Halo- The Glass Castle
by Oracle4907
Summary: The Human-Covenant War left many of the Outer Colonies wastelands of glass. Sedra was one of the lucky ones- untouched and unspoiled in its beauty. However, this haven-world has many secrets and angers to hide- angers left unsettled by the UNSC, and secrets hidden beneath the surface. The planet is ready to ignite- all it takes is the spark of an idea.
1. Chapter 1: Information

Halo: Insurrection

Chapter 1: Information

1000 Hours, October 24, 2558

Sedra, Orrichon System

Derrick Laramie sat at the top of the ridge overlooking the forested valley. His legs dangled off of the cliff's edge, and the young man swung them idly as he took a long pull from his water bottle. Off in the distance, sailing far above the verdant sea of trees, the city of Sedra cast glimmers of sunlight into the cloudless sky. Above the city skyline a flurry of large cargo ships circled, swooping and diving like mechanical birds. Derrick turned and reached for his backpack he had set on the ground and fumbled for his binoculars for a moment. He managed to pull them out, and peeked through the viewfinder. He trained his sights on the ships, watching with squinting eyes while reaching for his ChatterPad with his free hand. Derrick set it to receive mode, placed it in his shirt pocket, and began to talk.

"October the twenty-fourth, two-five-five-eight. This is my second time at the ridge this term. Attached to this video will be a full-length report of my findings." Derrick spoke as his viewfinder trained on a freighter with distinct olive-colored paint.

Derrick was silent for a moment, watching as the freighter descended quickly towards a small hill on the outskirts of the city, only to watch the ship be swallowed by the canopy.

"That was a UNSC Cargo Freighter, and not the first to land in that area. Over the past few months, over three hundred individual freighters—designations in the attached file- have landed in that sector of land, which historically was controlled by the UNSC military but never built up. Now, however, it's a different story. When I went in for a closer look, I was stopped around five klicks away from the landing site by electrified barbed fencing. Additionally, armored UNSC patrols made sweeps every ten minutes—clearly they've decided that this area is worth something to them. Keep in mind, the UNSC has managed to militarize the zone rather quietly— I haven't seen a single thread on the ChatterNet about this rapid increase in military presence. I'm not sure what's going on, but I believe that this should be taken as a warning to all Sedrans—history should tell us that escalation of military presence escalates the dangers to both the defenders and aggressors." Derrick finished his speech and turned off the feed to his ChatterPad.

He set the binoculars back into the backpack and pulled the pad out of his shirt pocket. Derrick sent the recording to his ChatterNet bank and saved it, then put the pad back into his backpack. He stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked away from the cliff.

A small dirt trail snaked its way down the hill, and standing at the foot of it was Matt. Derrick took a double-take, then fumbled to push his reporter's bag behind his back so that his roommate wouldn't see.

"What the hell are you doing here, Matt?" Derrick more yelled than asked.

"Relax, Derrick. I'm not gonna snitch on you or anything. You've been spending a lot of time away from the dorm—Trey suggested that I should follow you out, see what you were doing." Matt said, a twinge of relief in his voice.

"Without my permission." Derrick grumbled.

"Well, we thought you were selling contraband or something. Trey was worried about you, and I thought if you were doing some shady stuff, I wouldn't want the bastards finding their way to us." Matt said with his unforgettable smirk.

Derrick sighed, allowing some of his nervousness to subside. Although a new worry filled him—If his roommates knew about his disappearances, who else would?

"Nobody followed _you_ here, did they?" Derrick said.

Matt laughed and shook his head.

"Just me, Mr. Giraud," sarcasm flooding his voice.

"C'mon man! That's not funny. Way too soon." Derrick said, a little offended by the remark.

"Alright, alright. But really, this is what you've been doing? Documenting UNSC patrols? You know that's probably not the most legal thing to do, right?" Matt replied, his green eyes gazing from furrowed brow.

"Yeah, I know. But somebody's gotta do it. UNSC patrols and ordinance deliveries have nearly sextupled since my first recordings last term. Something's up, and Sedrans have the right to know what it is." Derrick said, nodding to himself.

"Eh, you and I both know the UNSC isn't exactly the most liberal with its allowances of wartime reporting." Matt said.

" _You and I both know_ that's just what the UNSC is calling it. It's martial law with a fancy coat of paint, that's all." Derrick spat, looking up to another transport ship.

"Hey, we're in agreement on that one. But seriously. We gotta head home." Matt said, gesturing towards the path.

Derrick turned on The Sedran Report as he and Matt hiked to the bottom of the ridge. The only thing the Report seemed to be talking about, which was just as true for many of the outer colonies, was the recent communications blackouts on numerous Outer Colony worlds. As Matt and Derrick slipped through the forest canopy, the main anchor issued a chilling cry.

"With each blackout, we lose more and more information about the welfare of these planets. Scattered sources have been claiming these blackouts are the result of a Covenant attack, while others claim something much more dangerous is occurring. Several reputable emissaries from Outer-Colony worlds have mentioned similarities to the New Phoenix event—an event that killed Billions on Earth in July of last year. All of our UNSC sources continue to refuse comment—a cause for concern, certainly. Billions are unaccounted for, and with no way to reach their home worlds, it's feared that it may stay that way for the foreseeable future. Please, if you have any information or are from the affected areas, please contact our affiliates. You voice does not need to be silenced."

They reached the car park as the segment ended, where Matt's CivHog sat waiting. Derrick threw his reporter's bag into the back and hopped into the passenger seat, where he programmed their journey home. As the engine started and the Hog pulled out of the parking lot and onto the large arterial motorway, Derrick began to compile his findings. Matt glanced to the ChaterPad every so often from the driver's seat.

Derrick saved the complied documents onto a secure section of his ChatterPad, and sent a backup into the general ChatterNet forums for proofreading and peer analysis. As this was all Derrick wanted to risk doing from a traceable Chatterpad, he set it at his feet and laid back in the passenger seat. The hog's open top allowed the warm Sedran air to whip at his face and tousle his thin brown hair.

"You know you're sitting on a goldmine there. I'm sure there are a lot of people who want the info you've complied." Matt said from the driver's seat, his eyes looking straight ahead.

Derrick turned to face him.

"Yeah, and that's why we need to give it to everybody." Derrick said, closing his eyes.

Derrick awoke to the sound of the car pulling into the driveway and shutting down. Wiping the grogginess from his eyes, Derrick stepped out of the car and grabbed his stuff from the back. He looked up briefly at his house—the medium-sized, white and grey tract-style dormitories Sedra City College supplied its students with. The yard was colored with dark green grass and a Sedran flag hung proud from a holder on the second story terrace. Sedra-Lillies lined the concrete footpath to the door, their sixteen-spoked pedals waving and dancing in the faint breeze that blew through the town. Matt stepped quickly up to the front porch, and Derrick followed. Derrick stood at the footpath to the front door while Matt scanned his fingerprints on the knob. The front panel chimed and the door opened, and the two boys stepped inside. Derrick set his bag on the hangar beside the door and shrugged off his coat. A cocktail of aromatic spices wafted to greet Derrick, and he rushed into the kitchen, where he was greeted by Trey. Matt walked beside him and sat down at the small table beside the kitchen, where he promptly tilted his head back and began tossing an old hacky-sack up and down. Trey stood at the kitchen throwing strange greens into a large pot, stirring it with a spoon.

"Wow, what's the occasion, Trey?" Derrick asked as he filled up his water bottle from the fridge.

Trey turned around, his brow furrowed. "Well, the occasion is that this is the last of the food in the fridge. We're kinda broke."

Derrick looked at Trey for a moment, unsure if this was a strange joke he was attempting to play.

"You're kidding." Derrick said, shocked.

Matt caught the hacky sack he was tossing and sat up in his chair. He looked straight at Derrick.

"Well, we've been broke for a little over a year and a half. Trey didn't tell us, but we've been on an Opportunity Grant the whole time. They've cut our funding," Matt pulled out his pad and forwarded the ChatterMail to Derrick.

Derrick opened his pad and read the letter.

 _Dear Mr. Laramie, Paulson, and Petrovick,_

 _It is with our deepest regrets that we must inform you all that effective Twenty of October, 2558, you will no longer be receiving funds from the Sedran Colonial Authority. Due to lack of academic output by your group, as well as the increased population of University-ready Sedrans, it has become necessary for the funds to be re-allocated for the remainder of the term. If by the next academic term your group can present the Board sufficient evidence of your academic improvement, then there may be a reversal of this decision. It would be advisable to contact your social workers to discuss these matters further._

 _Best of Wishes,_

 _Dr. William Broadwick,_

 _Ministry of Education, Sedra Colonial Authority_

Derrick set his Pad down on the table and fell against the wall.

"How are we gonna pay rent?" Derrick asked, more to himself than to his roommates.

"Matt… There's always the option of talking to your dad." Trey asked hesitantly.

Matt turned and pelted Trey with the hacky-sack.

"You know the situation with 'Senator Daddy'. Completely cut off for ten years." Matt said, his words dripping venom.

Matt got up off of the chair and waved Trey out of the room. Trey walked out with the stew-pot in his hands, shaking his head and glaring at Matt. Derrick ran his hands through his thin hair, trying to wish the whole situation away.

"Hey, Derrick. I've got an idea on how we can get the money, but I don't think you're going to like it." Matt said quietly, and motioned for Derrick to follow him.

"What is it?" Derrick asked, standing up and following Matt down the hall towards the office.

Matt was silent as they walked down the hall. This would've had to have been serious—Matt never let _anybody_ in his office. Even the girls he occasionally had over were forced to sleep on the couch, much to their contempt. Matt was a sociable guy, but he was extremely paranoid. His room was his inner sanctum, and not meant to be tread on lightly. Matt undid the multiple analog locks and opened the door. It swung open silently and the two stepped inside, Derrick closing the door behind him.

The office was covered in posters and ripped paper. The air reeked of old books and the metallic smell of solder. A holoboard was hung next to the door, strange symbols and electronic components displayed in the screen. A flag hung behind the office desk, a beige canvas with a snake chopped in pieces, old type claiming "Join or Die". To the right, the wall was covered in papers and filing cabinets—some academic, many not. Drawings of strange glyphs peppered the wall, including one that was instantly recognizable—The infamous Seeing Triangle of the Office of Naval Intelligence. It seemed that the office could double as Matt's room if needed—a small bed was pushed into the corner next to the filing cabinets. The scene looked as if Matt was living in his own private police station.

"What the hell is this, Matt?" Derrick asked, more than a little worried.

Matt walked around the room, eyeing the holoboard before sitting down at his desk. He motioned for Derrick to join him behind the table, and Derrick did. Matt manipulated some buttons on the desk and the holoboard next to the door pulled up a picture of a man. The person was middle-aged, with a large scar that ran from the bottom of his neck up to his jaw. His eyes were sharp, glimmering with powerful emotion. The man's face made Derrick shudder.

"Who the hell is that, Matt?" Derrick managed, looking at Matt.

"I mentioned earlier that that info you got is a goldmine, right? How much do you think you could get from a major publication?" Matt asked, staring at the holo-projected face of the man.

"I…I don't know. This was meant to me a Magnum Opus of sorts. A springboard to launch my journalistic career." Apprehension began to creep into Derrick's head.

"How much could you get, Derrick?" Matt continued.

"…Probably not enough to sustain us until the end of the year." Derrick replied, running the numbers in his head.

"Then I have a proposition for you. For us." Matt spoke simply, still staring at the screen.

"And what would that be? Who is this guy?" Derrick replied, his stomach churning in anxiety.

Matt turned in the chair and pointed to the picture on the holoboard.

"This man is in a particular business—he sells information. I've been in contact with him for a while. In fact, he contacted me first, looking for you. He's willing to part with a generous sum of money for your information." Matt said, looking at Derrick with pleading eyes.

"Who does he work for?" Derrick asked, caution grabbing hold of his words.

"That I don't know. The guy's a ghost. I've spent nearly the entire month trying to track him down. According to records on Sedra, as well as multiple forums on the ChatterNet, this guy doesn't exist. All I know is that he's willing to meet with us and exchange, but just you and me. He says he needs your information very soon. Do you want to do this?" Matt asked Derrick.

Derrick stood there, motionless. All his instincts were telling him to say no.

"How much is this guy willing to part with?" Derrick asked.

"Two hundred and fifty million Credits." Matt said.

"Shit, that's a lot."

Derrick was lost in thought. He had heard stories of people who had done shady deals in Sedra who had disappeared. Derrick knew that information on the whereabouts of UNSC troops was important to their enemies—whoever that may be. The Covenant came into Derrick's mind first—it had been just two years since the Covenant had killed thousands in their biochemical attacks on the City, and somebody had to have sold out somewhere for that to have occurred on a peaceful planet. Additionally, with such a large amount of credits on the line the deal almost seemed too good to be true. But Derrick had been planning on giving the information away, and he knew its value. He knew that the result of his findings could lead to many number of outcomes- the military escalation of the Sedra Colonial Guard, a potential conflict with the UNSC, leverage to negotiate better trade and autonomy deals—in a perfect world, the removal of martial law on Sedra. And even a fraction of the credits was enough to get himself off-planet for a long while—perhaps enough for a permanent tour of the Inner Colonies.

"If we do this and we're caught, they'll ghost us too. Selling UNSC military secrets isn't a light offense man. We go to ONI prison for that. And _nobody_ gets out of ONI prison. How do we know this guy is legit? That he isn't just a spook for ONI?" Derrick asked.

"We don't." Matt replied.

Derrick sat down on the table and stared out the window. The money was enticing—it would save all three of them from being kicked out of the college. Plus, it was no secret that many Sedrans were unsupportive of the UNSC's continued presence post-war. Perhaps this man could spread the world to other colonies.

Derrick looked at the picture of the man one last time. The man's eyes seemed to stare at him, calling. They were not angry eyes, more the eyes of a man out for revenge.

"Okay. Message this man and tell him we can meet. Tonight."


	2. Chapter 2: Quell

Chapter 2: Quell

Aboard _UNSC Nightshade_

1300 Hours, October 24, 2558

Sedra, Orrichon System

Spartan Valerie trained her weapon on an elite standing at the end of the hall. Even under her gloves, she could still feel her skin tingling from the steaming-hot gasses emanating from the plasma pistol's overcharged sinks. The pistol was humming with energy, the ejection port glowing a bright pink—so bright, her visor's polarizing shades kicked in.

"Hey Ben, it's getting a little warm up here." Valerie said, her hand unwavering and her eyes focused on the enemy.

"Yeah, that's Brute tech for ya. I wanted everybody to get a little familiarized with it, in case we ever stumble across it in combat." Ben replied over the Comm-link.

"Okay, I think I'm plenty familiar. Can I engage?" Valerie said, her other hand reaching for the magnum in her leg compartment.

"Go ahead, but, uh, watch out for the kick." Ben finished, and muted the comm-channel with an audible _click_.

Valerie released the plasma pistol's trigger, and was immediately pushed by the recoil. Even with her armor, she had to struggle to bring the gun quickly back to a firing position. However, she watched as the pink mass of plasma screamed through the corridor and hit the Elite in the face. The pink plasma burned like oil across the alien's energy shields, shorting them in a spectacular dance of blue energy. However, the plasma didn't dissipate. Instead it latched onto the elite's armor and exposed skin, scorching it. The elite let out a terrible roar and began to charge down the corridor, energy sword drawn.

"One more shot should do 'em in." Ben called over the comm-link.

"It better, or I'm about to be skewered." Valerie replied.

She charged the pistol again, not waiting to let the heat build up, and fired. The plasma hit true, and for a moment Valerie saw a decapitated Elite before the simulation drowned it out in a flash of cyan-colored light. Valerie set the pistol down on the table, impressed.

"Well, what'dcha think?" Ben's voice dripping with anticipation.

"I think we better not be on the receiving end of this." Valerie replied, pushing the magnum back into her leg compartment and sitting down at the weapons bench behind her.

"Well obviously. But C'mon. You see why I find it so addictive?" Ben asked.

"Ben, anything that lights up in a weird color gets you excited. You're like a moth." Valerie joked.

"Ha ha, very funny." Ben faked laughter, then sighed audibly through the comm-link.

"Thanks for the lesson Ben, seriously." Valerie added, looking back to the pistol steaming on the gun counter.

A loud beeping tone echoed through the halls, followed by a message from the ship's A.I.

"Recon Squad Scimitar, please report to Captain Rossberg on the bridge."

"Boss-man's ringing. Time to go." Ben said through the squad team-link.

An acknowledgement blip flashed on Valerie's HUD. Cass would be there.

Valerie stood up from the weapons bench and walked out of the testing room into the _Nightshade's_ main hall. She began her walk to the bridge, armored boots _clanking_ on the metal deck with each step. She passed by a door blocked off by naval repair crews and stopped for a moment. She knew what was behind that closed door—a depressurized cabin, fused titanium metal, likely a few dead marines they couldn't get out in time—the result of the ship being hit by a high-powered railgun as they passed through the Orrichon Asteroid Belt upon arrival in-system. While the ship destroyed the railgun and the base that housed it, the attack had been a clear statement to the entire crew of the _Nightshade_ —the UNSC was not welcome here.

Valerie reached the elevator to the bridge to find her squad mates waiting. All three of them stepped into the elevator together, and rode it up to the bridge. The sliding elevator doors opened to the command room, and to a waiting Captain Rossberg.

The Captain stood facing her, his eyes the youngest thing about him. His skin was old and wrinkled, and a large cauterized scar ran along the side of his left cheek—the signature wounds of an energy sword. Valerie was there when he got it—a Storm Faction surprise board, intended to be a ransom mission for the radical Covenant remnants. Valerie didn't have to save the captain—she reached the bridge to find the man beating an Elite Zealot to death with a pair of brass knuckles, blood pouring from his facial wound. Had he been any other man, the Captain would have been medically discharged as soon as they reached friendly territory. It took two months of serious metacarpal reformation and stem-cell fortifications, but Rossberg stayed captain—committed to his ship, his crew, and his title.

"Hello Val." Captain Rossberg smiled, his voice gravel and stone.

Valerie nodded and gave a quick salute, which the captain promptly returned. At that moment Ben and Cass came through the door behind Val, still in their suits.

"Apologies, sir. Valerie was having a little too much fun with some of the research weapons." Ben said, removing a brown-colored helmet to reveal a distinctly Irish face covered in grime and oil.

Cass stepped in behind him and removed her black helmet, her olive skin shining with sweat. She stood silent behind a veil of equally jet-black hair.

"Thank you for the update, Spartan." Rossberg let out a slight chuckle—since the first day aboard, Ben had always found a way to break through the man's titanium exterior—no matter how minute the dent may have been.

"Now that Scimitar is assembled, it's time we had a quick discussion." Rossberg said, a motioned towards the holotable in the center of the command deck.

The three Spartans walked to face the island, and Rossberg stood opposite the three. A holographic picture of Sedra rotated lazily in front of them. The _Nightshade_ was rendered as well, some little ways away from the UNSC spaceport and dry-dock. The city of Sedra was highlighted in red.

"Valerie, Ben, Cassidy."

Cassidy sighed audibly. She hated being called by her full name.

"For the past few months, Sedra has been a breeding ground for Anti-UNSC sentiments. The Sedran Colonial Guard, which previously has only been a planetary defense force, has seen a surge in recruitment—likely due to recent publications defaming and vilifying certain departments within the UNSC. While the UNSC has been keeping tabs on most of the real troublemakers on Sedra, we've received reports that a serious intel leak has been discovered within UNSC ground forces on Sedra. An information exchange is being held tonight, somewhere on the outskirts of the city. The troubling thing is that this is not a single-party exchange." As Rossberg finished, the hologram zoomed into a map of the city. A few areas were highlighted in red, others in orange, and off in the outskirts of the city, one in green.

"Who's making a deal with the devil?" Ben scoffed jokingly.

"A young Sedran College student by the name of Matthew Paulson," a holographic picture of a teenage boy appeared on the table, "the boy's been in contact with Sedran Insurrectionist groups for the past two years. His father is a prominent figure within Sedran-UNSC diplomatic circles, and the boy has been selling his father's UNSC contacts to the Innies for petty credits for most of that time." Rossberg replied.

"Huh. Kid's got some serious b—" Ben began, and was silenced by Cass with a gauntleted smack on the back of his head.

"Do we know who the Innie contact is?" Valerie asked, staring at the holographic city streets.

"Unfortunately, no. The boy uses encrypted messaging to communicate directly with Innie forces." Rossberg said.

"So what's the play?" Ben asked, leaning his palms on the edge of the holotable.

"This is a simple grab and go op. You insert tonight, use active camo to evade civilian eyes, intercept the deal. Dispose of the Innie, catch the boy—we'll need to interrogate him, let his father know what's been going on if need be." Rossberg explained, pointing to the areas of insertion.

"And where do we extract?" Valerie asked, glancing to the highlight of green on the holotable.

"Right there. We have a small undercover F.O.B there that we established to maintain surveillance the past month or so. Should be enough resources there to allow your team to refuel and get back here without being seen." Rossberg finished and the hologram zoomed back out to planet view once more.

"What are the parameters?" a quiet, velvet voice asked from behind Valerie.

"It speaks!" Ben exalted, and was once again whacked with Cass' gauntleted hand—this time on the side of the head.

Rossberg managed a smirk, then nodded.

"Good question, Cass. This is a powder-keg issue—the boy gets killed, you can believe that the backlash would be immense and extreme. The Innies out here are just looking for us to light a spark. Many civvies are looking for a reason to join the Colonial Guard. It is imperative that you are not seen, and that the boy is not killed. Once you get him here, we'll have a team curate an alibi for the boy, begin damage-control." Rossberg said.

Cass nodded and put on her helmet, hiding her cobalt blue eyes.

"You are to leave immediately. Your mission-specific gear has been loaded into your Pelican—suppressed magnums only. We want to keep you as unarmed as possible. Tranquilizer rounds for the boy, hollow points for the Innie." Rossberg explained.

Valerie took the helmet from her hand and put it on. The visor UI booted up quickly, as it normally did. The Captain pressed some buttons on his CommPad, and a waypoint appeared on Valerie's HUD.

"Good luck, Halberd. Dismissed." The Captain said, saluting the three Spartans and returning to his Command chair.

Valerie, Ben and Cass returned the salute with practiced synchronization and began their run to the hangar bay. As the three ran down corridors their metallic stampede echoed along the walls, and much of the crew moved out of the way of Halberd—either out of self-preservation or respect, Valerie wasn't sure. They ran silently for a moment before Ben ritualistically broke the silence.

"Do you think this mission is worth some leave time?" Ben joked through TeamLink, as he did before every mission.

"Keep dreaming, Benny." Cass retorted.

"I swear, five years and this woman still can't warm up to me." Ben said, and received a laugh from Valerie and Cass.

"Keep focused. Maybe if things go our way we can move up the list for a little R and R." Valerie replied.

They reached the hangar bay and finished their run. Halberd's Pelican sat waiting to be released from its docking handles, the new grey metal plating that Ben and Cass had installed seemed out of place with the stock black metal of the transport.

"Hey, we made it from command to the hangar in just a minute twenty-nine! That's a new record, Scimitar." Ben proclaimed.

"Time to see how fast we can get planetside—exchange starts tonight we need to get planetside in order to get prepped." Valerie replied, hoisting herself up into the open troop bay.

Cass came next, passing Valerie and situating herself into the cockpit. Ben jumped up last, immediately going to the weapons panel to assess the hardware. Valerie sat down as the troop bay was closed and Cass began to spool up the dropship's engines. A familiar high-pitched whine and vibrating rumble washed over the Pelican as the engines kicked and the ship was released from the hangar. Immediately the troop carrier lost gravity, and Ben floated next to the weapon cabinet for a moment before using his mag boots to walk to his seat. He strapped in, leaned back, and promptly fell asleep.

Valerie stayed up, reviewing the mission data through her HUD interface. She had a creeping feeling that something was wrong—never had she gone into a mission feeling so unprepared. Perhaps it was the lack of actual firepower, or maybe the proximity to civilians—regardless, for the first time since she signed up for the Spartan-IV program, Valerie Stahl was nervous.


	3. Chapter 3: The Exchange

Chapter 3: The Exchange

2430 Hours: October 24, 2558

Sedra, Orrichon System

Derrick wasn't truly surprised when, after shutting down his holoboard and grabbing his coat, Matt Paulson reached into a drawer at his desk and pulled out a magnum. He set it on the table along with a couple of spare magazines, which he began to load while he sat at the chair.

"Having a gun definitely does not make me feel any better about this, Matt." Derrick said, trying to make sure his voice wasn't breaking.

"Well, when you deal with shady people you gotta carry some insurance." Matt stated as he slid one of the magazines into the pistol with a harrowing _shh-click_.

"Why do I have to come with you? This seems exceptionally dangerous. I'm not looking to get shot over this." Derrick fought to make sure his stomach didn't overturn right there in Matt's office.

"Because the contact wants to see the source. Make sure you aren't a UNSC feeder or some shit like that. I told him that you're off-limits." Matt said as he slid the pistol into a concealed holster within his large military coat.

"You really think these people are going to listen to some arbitrary rules made up by some college student? These guys are gonna blow holes in our heads and take the docs." Derrick replied.

Matt shrugged his old military coat over his shirt and grabbed the keys to his 'hog. Matt simply stepped around Derrick and opened the door to the office. Derrick turned and followed, sighing in rejection. The two reached the kitchen where Trey was still stirring the pot, and Derrick grabbed his backpack with his ChatterPad from the table. Trey turned around and immediately frowned.

"Where are you two going?" He asked in between licking sauce off of the tips of his fingers.

"Out. We will probably be back." Matt said, turned and walked out of the room.

"Probably?" Trey's eyebrows nearly jumped to the top of his forehead.

"I'll message you on the ChatterNet when we're on our way back. Don't worry." Derrick said, shrugging and then following Matt out the front door of the dorm.

Night had fallen on Sedra, and the view was spectacular as always. Nestled among the stars, Sedra's moon glowed a brilliant goldenrod that illuminated silhouettes of the trees that lined the streets. Matt's hog started up in the driveway, the familiar whine of hydrogen cells beginning to catalyze echoing off of the facades of the dorms across the street. Derrick walked around the civilianized war machine and jumped up into the passenger seat. The Warthog had been a graduation present from Matt's father—the last present before Matt lost all contact with his parents. As a result, the Hog was beaten up—old clothes and empty wrappers littered the footwells, and the car smelled faintly of gunpowder and shaving gel. Matt pulled out of the driveway by himself, then programmed the autopilot to take the vehicle to the Sedran Municipal Garage—the largest vehicle storage lot on Sedra, right in the middle of the city's metropolitan zone. As the Warthog drove itself onto the SuperArtery, Matt began to smoke from a vintage vaporizer—further solidifying in Derrick's mind that Matt was on a mission to end his life as early as possible.

"So, um, is there a game plan you'd like to tell me…possibly?" Derrick asked, staring straight at Matt in disbelief.

"Yeah, sure. We park at the Garage; we hoof it about three blocks to the meeting spot—Sedra Central Plaza. I'll go on ahead; you'll hang back out of sight. Hell, you can go shopping if you want." Matt stated.

"No money, smartass." Derrick rolled his eyes.

"Right. You get the idea. I'll call you when I need the package—you walk up, say nothing, look at nobody but me and hand me the datapad. Walk away, wait a few minutes, and then our business will be done. You can head back to the Garage if you want afterwards." Matt said.

"If I hear gunshots, I'm getting the hell outta there." Derrick replied.

"Good idea. If that happens, the plaza will have the SCG and UNSC military police on it in seconds. Probably a good idea to disassociate from me at that point." Matt said, leaning back and shutting his eyes.

"We're roommates. We couldn't disassociate even if we wanted to. D-do you have a death wish or something?" Derrick asked out loud before he could stop himself.

"No—just a vendetta and the need for a lot of cash." Matt said simply.

Derrick sat there for a moment, speechless at Matt's eerie and calm composure.

"I don't want to lose you out there though. Do me a favor and turn on your datapad's tracker—just in case shit goes south. I want to know where you are." Derrick said, trying to breathe evenly.

"Probably not the best plan, but if the bad guys can find us, so can the good guys." Matt said, then closed his eyes and turned to face the window—the conversation was over.

Derrick rolled in his seat to face the window as well. Warm night air blew into the cabin from the open sunroof, and Derrick watched as the skyline and glowing lights of the city grew closer. Derrick fell asleep to the rumbling of the wheels on the highway and the sound of the wind whipping through the cabin.

Derrick awoke to the sound of hydraulic arms clamping around the Warthog. When he opened his eyes, he instantly recognized the familiar cylindrical tower that was the Sedra Municipal Garage. He quickly opened the passenger door and hopped out of the Warthog, which was promptly lifted up and out of sight into the many vertical lots. Matt sat at one of the benches, a small smirk across his face. For a moment Derrick wanted to strangle the suicidal maniac.

"You think this is funny? You should've woken me up. How am I supposed to pick you up if I'm stuck forty stories high?" Derrick fumed, his echoing words filling the small room.

"My bad." Matt said, motioning for Derrick to follow.

The Warthog had parked in one of the receiving docks of the Garage, so Derrick and Matt found their way out quickly. As they exited the building, Derrick had to stop for a moment to take in the sights. While he had lived on Sedra all his life, he had never actually gone into the Metropolitan zone. This area was for the elite of Sedra—high-end shops lined the city's streets, and huge business offices carved wedges out of the night sky and replaced it with glass and light. While the streets weren't full of people, the sounds of advertisements and people yelling and talking filled the block with unintelligible white noise. Derrick turned to his left and scouted down the street. The plaza was a short walk from where they were currently, and Matt had already begun his walk over. Derrick attempted to follow Matt with his eyes as he sat down at an outdoor patio that had a view of the Plaza—however Matt managed to slip into the sea of people and disappear. Derrick ordered a glass of water from an impatient waiter who stopped by the table, then began to watch the Plaza for any signs of Matt or the strange man from the holoboard. It was difficult to see, as the Plaza was not as lit up as the city streets surrounding it.

Derrick had almost given up on finding Matt when the familiar olive-green coat reappeared at the crosswalk next to the Plaza. Matt had managed to get his way to a small bench with a positioning that put him in direct view of Derrick. Matt nodded almost imperceptibly at Derrick from across the street, then looked away. Five excruciating minutes passed with Matt sitting alone on the bench and Derrick biting his nails in anticipation. Ten minutes passed with Matt sitting alone on the bench, and Derrick began to get worried.

 _What if they bailed? What if they're planning on kidnapping both of us?_

Derrick's head swam with dark, nervous thoughts. His eyes drilled into the bench, and occasionally trained themselves on the roofs of nearby buildings to see if either of them were being watched. Derrick felt vulnerable, naked, as if a million eyes were on him all at once. He massaged his tired eyes with his fingers and ordered a stiff drink from the waiter—if he was going to be out here for much longer, he might as well take the edge off. Matt was still at the bench as Derrick received his drink, and Derrick could see that even Matt was starting to become impatient. However, just as Matt was shifting to get up off of the bench a man sat down next to him. Derrick was relieved, but only for a moment—the point of no return been crossed, and now Derrick was in with both feet.

Matt and the man sat together for a moment, likely talking. The two were too far away for Derrick to see their lips, but Derrick knew. A minute later his ChatterPad buzzed a notification, and Derrick stood up from the patio chair and began to walk down the street. His heart was pounding in his chest and taking even breaths was beginning to become a struggle. Derrick attempted to walk as casually as he could while feeling in his pocket for the device that contained his findings. While he had copied it to another solid drive back at the dorm, it still felt as if he were giving away a hunk of gold—a quarter-billion credit hunk of gold.

Derrick crossed the street with a crowd of people and walked to the edge of the plaza. He reached the bench where Matt and the strange man sat.

"Do you have the device?" Matt asked Derrick.

"Yes, here." Derrick reached into his coat pocket and handed the drive to Matt.

"You can go." The strange man said.

Derrick turned and looked at the man in shock. The man looked similar to the photo Matt had displayed in the room, with a few differences. The scar was clearly visible, but the face had been reconstructed—and fairly recently. The man's ice blue eyes drilled intently into Derrick's, as if his stare alone could penetrate flesh. The man's hair was hidden under a large hat, and his body sat covered in a long black coat.

"Your name." The man asked, eyes unmoving.

"Um, Derrick, sir." he replied, holding his wrists so his hands would stop shaking.

Matt looked to the man and back to Derrick with a look of utter confusion, which Derrick noticed.

"Are we done here?" Matt asked, the demeanor of cool beginning to evaporate at this unforeseen event.

"Not quite." The man said, reaching into his coat pocket.

Matt reached quickly into his own coat pocket, and Derrick's whole body went stiff in preparation for the impact of a bullet. For a moment the world seemed to stand still as thoughts of death ran through Derrick's head—the only thing that seemed real was those cold blue eyes of this unknown man, eyes that seemed to recognize Derrick's face.

The man pulled a small metal ball out of his coat and offered it to Derrick, who took it. The sphere was matte grey, and the metal was cold to the touch. A strange symbol had been etched into the sphere—a web of curves and circles interwoven into one another.

"What is this?" Derrick asked.

The man looked at him, a look of disappointment on his face.

"That is for you to investigate." The man said, standing up from the bench.

Matt also stood and shook hands with the strange man.

"Looking forward to doing business with you again." Matt said, the strange expressionless façade beginning to return.

"Perhaps." The man said, his eyes wandering up towards the top of the buildings.

Suddenly, at the edge of the block a huge fireball boiled up from the street, followed by a deafening explosion. Immediately screams began to cut through the murmur of the city's ambient noise and people walking on the streets turned to look at the disaster. Derrick turned to Matt and the strange man, ready to run.

"What are you-" Matt began before his eyes rolled and he collapsed onto the floor. A small syringe was imbedded in his neck.

Before Derrick could move he was tackled to the ground by the strange man. Derrick's face scraped against the hard concrete and began to bleed, but the adrenaline coursing through him numbed him to the pain. He turned and looked back to where he was standing just a moment before—the ground was broken up by multiple bullet holes. Derrick turned and vomited into the planter next to him.

"What is…" Derrick tried to talk, but the strange man covered his mouth.

"Spartans. Probably Scimitar." The man said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a submachine gun.

"What the hell? What are you talking about?" Derrick asked hysterically, pulled out of his shock by the sight of another weapon.

Two more bullets whizzed silently overhead and cracked into the stone behind Derrick and the man. The man leaned out of cover and fired a short—but loud—burst from the submachine gun that sent Derrick's ears into a persistent ringing.

"Bad shots. If this had been a team of Threes, we'd already be dead." The man said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a device colored in the distinct iridescent purple the Covenant used for their military hardware.

The man pressed a button on the device, which emitted a harsh blue light. The light glowed around the man's figure for a moment before he seemed to simply evaporate from where he sat.

"What the hell?" Derrick cursed to the empty air in front of him.

Derrick attempted to run through his options as the sound of crackling fires and screaming mixed with the painful ringing in his ears.

"The Warthog." Derrick spoke of his salvation.

He turned and grabbed Matt's limp body by the scruff of his coat. Derrick rummaged through the pockets until he found the pistol, which he grabbed and rolled delicately in his hand. Directly across the street from Derrick was a small alleyway—the perfect cover that he could use to sneak his way back to the Garage with Matt and get the hell out of the city. He counted to three in his head, covered his head with his free hand, and pulled Matt across the street and into the alleyway. As he backpedaled the familiar windy scream of bullets flying and the audible _crack_ of breaking concrete echoed behind him. He slowed his speed once he reached the alley, turning around to face any potential threats that may have followed him.

"What the hell have a gotten myself into?" Derrick asked himself.

"That's a good question." A helmeted voice replied.

Derrick turned around to meet a titan clad in brown armor, pushing a DMR barrel into Derrick's forehead.

"Please don't kill me." Derrick said out of instinct.

"Oh don't worry," The soldier in brown armor visibly as well as audibly chuckled," that's not our job."

A pair of metallic hands grabbed Derricks wrists from behind him and put them into cuffs. Derrick attempted to turn to see who was manhandling him only to have Mr. Brown shove the DMR barrel painfully into Derrick's temple.

"Okay Mr. Paulson, time for a little nap." Mr. Brown said.

"What are you-" Derrick began to ask, but the world had begun to spin around on itself.

Time seemed to slow and a heavy sleepiness immediately washed over Derrick's body. He felt himself collapse onto the ground, where his vision tunneled and then vanished into the dark void of sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Chains

Chapter 4: Chains

2400 Hours, October 24, 2558

Sedra Metropolitan Zone, Sedra, Orrichon System

Valerie sat alone atop an abandoned building overlooking the Metropolitan Zone's central plaza. She had the intel reports open in her HUD—Birth certificates, family history—while partly motivated by boredom, part of her wanted to understand why a teenage boy would sell military secrets so willingly. Cass had curated the data for Valerie, rather quickly as well—as if she too had the same questions in mind. Scimitar had gone up against young, passionate rebel forces before. But never had she dealt with Civvies—after all, those were the people she was supposed to be _protecting._ But this was an extraneous circumstance—a civilian willing to conspire with a dangerous enemy—an enemy who was once the most threatening force in human-controlled space. An enemy that supposedly _created_ the Spartans.

"Cass, anything new?" Valerie asked in the TeamLink.

"Yeah, a tracking beacon. And something else." Cass replied.

Valerie's HUD's mini-map registered a red blip a few klicks south of their location. Additionally, a stream of old ChatterNet messages appeared for Valerie to read.

Valerie began to look through the correspondence. Matthew Paulson's messages to his father, Erik Paulson, and to his brother. She read through them silently, watching as the texts went from loving family members to distant and spiteful enemies. She whispered the last message Matthew Paulson sent to his father.

 _You made your bed, plush and happy in the Metro Zone. But as always, you sleep alone—you're not the dad I remember._

Valerie shuddered for a moment, a hint of familiar anger tightening in her chest.

"Kid's got some vendettas, for sure. Though why against his father? If the kid's for Sedran independence, his dad's the best avenue to pursue his goals." Valerie asked herself.

Cass sent another file through to Val's HUD. A newspaper article.

 ** _Senator Paulson Vetoes Sedran Soverignty Referendum_**

 _Amid heated debates about the future of Sedran sovereignty and the increased presence of UNSC personnel planet-side, a recent referendum in the capital demanding Sedra to close its borders to the UEG defense force was struck down by Senator Paulson. While Senator Paulson denied us a comment, many have wondered if his recent political actions have been motivated by personal interests within both the UNSC and at home._

Cass forwarded another article, this time a small piece within some gossip column.

 ** _Heather and Erik Paulson Separation Papers Leaked_**

 _ChatterNet has exploded with activity as leaked Separation Documents contained the names of Heather and Erik Paulson. While the high-profile couple has been seen together since these papers have been released, it seems to be clear that the two are slated for an ending to their relationship. Heather, a military archaeologist and lifetime supporter of Sedran Independence, has been with her husband Erik since before he became senator. This breakup would mean an end to a 24-year partnership between the couple._

"Thanks, Cass." Valerie said, staring past the messages on her HUD, out into the darkness beyond the city lights.

"One more." Cass replied, as another article appeared in Val's HUD.

 ** _Heather Paulson Reported Dead in UNSC Transport Crash_**

 _Famed Xenoarchaeologist and wife to prominent Senator Erik Paulson died this week in a pirate attack on a UNSC transport vessel returning from an unknown location. The vessel was discovered in the Sedran Belt earlier this week. While investigators are still trying to locate the responsible party, a vigil will be held for all those aboard who were killed next week in the Upper Hills District._

Her reading was interrupted by Ben's voice through the TeamLink.

"Okay guys, intel is one thing, but going through the target's dirty laundry? C'mon, this isn't amateur hour. You both know better." Ben added through the TeamLink.

"Our target is a kid. If we can avoid doing him harm, then I'd like to take that option. If we can understand why he's doing what he's doing, maybe we can take him in peacefully." Valerie said.

"I know he's a kid. But he's actively helping rebels. His contact is a _known_ radical. Responsible for orchestrating the attacks on both the _Infinity_ and the bombings of the Chief Memorial in New Mombassa." Ben said.

Valerie looked up in surprise.

"Hang on, how do you know who the contact is?" Valerie asked, looking down to the plaza below.

"Because I'm looking at the guy." Ben stated.

Ben's live-feed showed up in Valerie's HUD. A man stood behind a garbage dumpster in the alleyway below Ben. A large scar ran up from his neck to his jaw, and even from Ben's distance Val could see the man's cold, deadly eyes.

"My god… that's-" Valerie began.

"Dellavue." Cass finished Valerie's sentence with anger in her voice.

"Looks like the game just got a new player." Ben said, pulling out his pistol.

"Hold on. Let's not engage just yet—we need that info. If we can get the two men together, we might be able to hit two birds with one stone." Valerie replied, turning and running back to the weapons cache she had brought with her from the Pelican.

"Cass, I'm sending you your long-rifle. Ben, I'm sending you a Submachinegun. No Covvie weapons—don't want the locals getting the wrong idea if things get hot. You're on the avenue—if Dellavue tries to run, you got him. Cass, I want your sights on him at all times." Valerie said, sending a contact ping to the _Nightshade._

She reached into the trunk and grabbed the two weapons. She set them down on the ground, then grabbed two mini-rockets from the depths of the chest.

"Okay Ben—ping the delivery." Valerie said.

Val placed the mini-rocket onto the side of the submachine gun, and held it up above her head. The rocket glowed green before igniting and taking off at high speed towards Ben, across the plaza way. She then reached down and lifted Cass' sniper rifle and fitted it with the remaining mini-rocket. It too ignited, sending the rifle flying up towards the roof of the skyscraper to Valerie's left.

"You guys armed?" Valerie asked.

"Shipment received. Thanks Val." Ben called back.

Cass sent an acknowledgement ping to Val's HUD. A the same moment, Val received an incoming CommLink request from the _Nightshade._ She connected the transmission.

"Valerie-408 here. Captain Rossberg?" She said into the new comm-channel, waiting for an answer.

"That's a negative, Spartan. Captain Rossberg is no longer the CO of this operation." A strange voice responded.

Valerie quickly connected Ben and Cass to the CommLink. She needed her team there.

"Who is this? We need rank and proper clearance before we can acknowledge a change in CO mid-op like this." Valerie said, apprehension beginning to flood her thoughts.

"My name is Admiral Navaronne. You can call me Admiral. I work with the Office of Naval Intelligence, and we have reason to believe you have a certain suspected Insurrectionist leader currently in your sights." The man replied, passively denying Valerie's prompt for video Comm-Link.

"Affirmative, sir. I would like to speak with Captain Rossberg first, If I may." Valerie demanded.

Cass sent a message to Valerie's HUD. Encrypted.

 _Is this real? -C_

"Of course. He's being escorted off of the _Nightshade_ , being reassigned to a new team. ONI groups are going to be taking over ops on Sedra from here on out." The Admiral stated matter-of-factly.

 _Not sure. Don't like it. -V_

"Valerie? Is that you?" Rossberg's voice was patched into the Comm-Link.

"Yes sir, Cass and Ben are on as well. Is this true Sir? Reassignment in the middle of an Operation?" Valerie said, concerned.

"Afraid so. The Admiral has all the papers, straight from HIGHCOM in Sydney. I'm afraid I'm being reassigned to the Inner colonies, for defense." Rossberg's voice seemed to be trying to communicate something to Valerie.

"Defense, sir?" Valerie asked.

"I'm afraid ONI had not taken the liberty to inform me what we are defending. Only that it must be done. Sedra's under control of ONI now." Rossberg said, taking great care with his wording.

"I think I understand, sir." Valerie said quietly, and disconnected from the CommLink back to the Admiral.

 _Looks like a new puppet-master to me. -B_

"Admiral, I acknowledge the transfer of command. I will assume you have been briefed on our current Op. Permission to continue as-planned, sir?" Valerie asked.

"You have the green-light from me, Valerie. One additional parameter—none of the parties can be allowed to escape. If you cannot capture the boy, he needs to be killed. The stakes have been raised, Scimitar. We can't go easy on Innie Sympathizers. I want them all captured. If not, I want them dead. Understood?" The Admiral's voice echoed through the CommLink.

"Understood, Sir." Valerie replied.

 _I already don't like the guy. -B_

"From all three of you. Including the two eavesdroppers." The Admiral replied.

 _Thought you ran a silent-connect, Val? -C_

 _I did! -V_

"…Understood, sir." Cass and Ben replied in unison.

"Great. Oh, and Valerie? You're under my command. Silent-connections won't be necessary. When I communicate with you, I'll ask if I want to speak to your whole team—understood?" The Admiral continued.

"Yes sir." Valerie sighed, then ended the connection.

Valerie pulled out the silenced assault rifle from the cache and charged the bolt.

"Wow, talk about a spook." Ben said.

"I don't like this." Cass continued.

"Well, we don't have a choice. He's our CO, Plain and simple. We can complain to HIGHCOM after the mission is over." Valerie said, walking back to the edge of the roof and looking down towards the alley.

"I still have eyes on Dellavue." Cass said.

"Val, we should look for the Paulson kid." Ben said, shifting his gun to point towards the red dot on their map.

"Alright." Valerie said, her mind reaching back to recall Captain Rossberg's voice.

 _What are you defending from, captain?_

"…And he's got a friend." Ben said.

"What? What do you mean?" Valerie said, pulled out of her thoughts and training her assault rifle to the west.

"Look. He's got a buddy. Maybe a middleman?" Ben mused to himself as he watched the two young men walk down the street.

"The other one has what we're looking for." Cass chimed in through the CommLink.

Cass' perceptiveness was never misplaced. It was part of what made her such an effective member of the squad, and an equally deadly sniper. While she rarely spoke in absolutes over a mission, when she did, she was almost always correct in her assumptions.

"Thanks Cass, I'll keep an eye on the new player. Ben and Cass, watch the other two."

Two acknowledgement lights blipped on Val's HUD.

Valerie watched from the rooftop as the new boy sat down at a café across the road from the plaza. Paulson continued his walk towards the plaza, looking around for someone. Valerie looked back to the boy.

"Paulson's on a bench in the plaza. West side." Ben reported through the TeamLink.

Valerie watched with interest at this boy sitting at the café table. The boy was clearly anxious, looking every which way. As the boy scanned the rooftops, for a moment his eyes rested exactly where Valerie was. She quickly ducked underneath the lip of the roof for a moment, waiting for the boy's eyes to move. And they had—to the plaza, where Paulson sat waiting for Dellavue.

"Okay, Dellavue is making his way from the alley." Ben said.

Valerie turned her rifle towards the alley and followed Dellavue with it.

"Hang on. We have to get the new kid on the block too. This is going to complicate things." Ben said.

Valerie looked to the bench that Paulson sat on, watched as Dellavue moved to sit down next to the boy.

"Okay, we need a game plan. Cass, got anything you can do?" Valerie asked.

"Yeah. A distraction." Cass said, pinging a large delivery truck on Valerie's HUD.

"Okay, that's the prop—what do you want to do with it?" Valerie replied, smiling.

"Blow it up." Cass stated simply.

"Collateral damage, Cass." Ben pointed out.

"Yeah, but I've been saving something for just a moment like this." Cass replied, turning to train her sniper rifle on the truck at the north end of the plaza, directly below her building.

"What would that be, Cass?" Ben asked, ready to debunk her response.

"Your disintegrating bullet, Ben." Cass replied.

"My—wait, what? _You_ took my prototype? I thought I had just misplaced it…" Ben stammered, enraged.

"Relax. I'm borrowing it." Valerie could practically hear Cass smiling over the TeamLink.

"It disintegrates upon impact! You can't return a disintegrated bullet!" Ben yelled to Cass.

"Shhh. New kid's moving. Our window's coming." Valerie said, watching as the scared-looking boy crossed the street and walked towards the bench.

She waited until the boy held out his hand. Then sent the all-clear to Cass and Ben.

"Get ready to move, guys." Valerie said, training the assault rifle onto Dellavue and prepping her stealth field.

"Taking the shot in three…" Cass began the countdown as Ben jumped off of the roof and into the alley.

Valerie stood and activated her stealth field. It would last five minutes—more than enough time to get in and out without being seen by bystanders.

"Two…" Valerie checked her rifle to make sure the magazine was filled with the tranquilizer rounds.

"One…" Valerie sprinted towards the roof and jumped.

Valerie didn't hear the shot—only the exploding truck. A fireball blasted up into the air, and screams rang out from all around the plaza. As Valerie fell towards the ground, she took a shot at the Paulson boy. She managed to hit him clean in the neck with a tranq round, and he immediately fell to the ground. Valerie hit the street with a roll and a loud metallic _clank_ , then took off running towards the bench.

"Val, Dellavue and the new kid are behind two planters, far end of the plaza." Ben reported.

Val ran as fast as she could, her meet rustling the grass beneath her as she sprinted through the park. Her breath was labored as she fought to keep her aim steady as she ran.

"Val, Val, Dellavue is gone." Ben panicked over the TeamLink.

"I lost visual too, Val." Cass continued, the loud _crack_ of her sniper rifle cutting between the approaching sirens.

"The new kid…where is the new kid?" Valerie panted.

"Coming towards me. He's got Paulson. Engage?" Ben asked.

Valerie stopped her sprint.

"No. Capture both of them—we will bring them to the FOB for interrogation and extraction." Valerie replied, and turned to look at the crowd gathering around the burned-out truck.

"Rodger, consider it done." Ben replied, then switched off of TeamLink.

"Val…What about Dellavue?" Cass murmured.

"The man's a professional. If he's gotten this much of a head start, we're not likely to find him. Besides, we have the information he wanted. We dry out his sources, we dry him out." Valerie said, walking towards the alley where Ben was moving the now two unconscious boys towards the van he had commandeered.

"Hey, that wasn't so bad!" Ben laughed as he returned to the CommLink.

"It wasn't great, either." Cass retorted.

"C'mon now. Cass, make your way down here. We want to be out of here as soon as we can." Valerie replied, sitting down on the Van's open tailgate.

She turned to look at the two boys, covered in dirt and blood. She felt a twinge of guilt for a moment—if Rossberg had been ousted before the mission, she may have had to kill both of them. She climbed the tailgate and stepped into the van, kneeling before the two boys.

"Did you get the drive?" Valerie asked, reaching through the boys' coat pockets.

"Yeah, it was on the Paulson kid. We might need to go find their car, get an autopilot back to their place, make sure there's no backup at home." Ben suggested as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Okay, we can do that after we get these guys somewhere secure. Those tranqs are only rated for a few hours." Valerie said, stopping after she felt something strange inside the new boy's coat.

She reached further into the pocket and grabbed a hold of a round object. She pulled it out of the boy's pocket and held it up. It was a strange, spherical object, shining in the light from the city lights behind her and etched with strange intertwining glyphs. She immediately recognized the architecture—Forerunner.

"Hold on… what kid walks around with a Forerunner artifact in his coat pocket?" Valerie asked.

She placed the artifact in her back storage compartment, then headed towards the passenger seat. Cass jumped down from the roof above and hopped into the trailer with the boys.

"Alright Ben, let's get back to base. I have some questions to ask these boys."


End file.
